Mentalist Episode Tag: Not One Red Cent, 5x3
by Donnamour1969
Summary: Post-episode, Jane and Lisbon contemplate poker and orthopedic shoes. Spoilers, 5x3. Friendship/humor/hint of Jisbon if you squint.


A/N: This week's episode was just, in Jane's words, "Meh" for me. It did have some amusing bits—Jane and the foot powder, the bet with Van Pelt, Lisbon and those horrible loaner shoes! It did sort of answer the question about Lorelei, about whom I now share in the theory that Jane has her hidden away somewhere. And Jane didn't appear to be under the influence of belladonna, so that's a good sign. I have a feeling that this was the calm before the storm, given how dramatic next week's episode appears, and after listening to interviews from the 100th episode party (find those at Red Blog or youtube) about what's ahead this season.

Anyway, here's my take on what might have happened post-tag. Hope you like it.

**Episode Tag: Not One Red Cent, 5x3**

"Why are you still here?" asked Lisbon when she walked into the bullpen sometime after midnight.

Jane sat up on his couch, then stretched his arms out and yawned. "I fell asleep. I was up all night last night solving your case for you"-he ignored her offended sniff and patted the couch—"and sweet Bessie here sent out her usual siren's call. What's your excuse?"

She shrugged. "I left something in my office."

"You mean paperwork for the weekend. For goodness sake, woman, take a break."

She didn't even blush at the accusation. When he was right, he was right.

"Hey," he said suddenly. "Is that a wad of cash in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"

Her hand went to her front pants pocket, where a small bulge was clearly visible. She grinned.

"My poker winnings," she said proudly, bringing out the roll of bills. He looked unimpressed, and her face fell in irritation.

"Poker? Where were you playing poker at this time of night? Without me?"

"Ha, you know I never play poker with you anymore. No, Mancini invited me to a little game at Café Luciano's with him and some other law enforcement types. You would have been bored silly."

"Mancini?" Jane said darkly. "Old Hot Head asked you out, eh? First it's poker, next thing he's got half his stuff in _your_ closet."

"What? He was just being friendly, trying to ease the tension between the CBI and the FBI. His boss probably ordered him to do it."

Lisbon returned her money to her pocket and leaned against Van Pelt's empty desk, crossing her arms in front of her. She didn't know why she bothered talking to Jane sometimes. Imagine, Mancini having any kind of nonprofessional interest in her. It was ludicrous.

"So, who was there," he asked curiously.

She prattled off the names of her fellow players, and Jane's eyebrows rose higher and higher after each one, disappearing beneath his hair altogether when she got to Bertram.

He clasped his hands together and smiled.

"So, they've invited you in," he said.

"What does that mean?"

"To The Club, of course."

"Club? What club? It was a friendly game of poker. Of course, I might not be invited again, since I cleaned out the boss," she said, patting her pocket in triumph.

"Don't be naïve," he said good-naturedly. "This just shows you're moving up in the world, Lisbon. Literally playing with the big boys now. Yes…this could be a very good thing for us…" He tapped his closed lips with one finger.

"For _us_?"

"Yeah. If they begin to trust you, you might be privy to some inside information. Or, more than likely, given your association with me, they're using you to keep tabs on what I'm up to."

"Your ego knows no bounds, does it? Why couldn't it have been that Mancini was just trying to mend fences? You don't think I'm worthy of associating with big wigs?"

"Oh, please." He waved aside her offended tone. "Of course you're worthy. You're worth in character more than all those bureaucratic idiots combined. No, you've become such a great actress, Lisbon, you could feed them stuff we want them to know, in our own best interests."

"Why do you keep thinking that everyone's suspect? There are good people in law enforcement and in the government, you know."

"Because everyone _is_ suspect," he replied ominously. "Red John taught me that."

"Look, I know you're still upset about Lorelei, and rightfully so. She was in the FBI's custody, and they lost her."

"Hmph," he said noncommittally, and her eyes narrowed on him with sudden suspicion.

"Jane—" she began, but he interrupted her.

"Did they invite you back?" he asked quickly.

"Yes, actually, but I'm not sure if they were just being polite. I did clean Bertram's clock after all, just like I told him I would."

"Well, if they seriously invite you again, go. And wear a wire."

"I most certainly will not. _If_ I'm invited, and _if_ I go—and those are some pretty big _if's_—I'll be the one to decide if I'm going to share anything with you."

"You don't trust me now?"

"Not as far as I can kick your ass."

"That's hurtful, Teresa, I gotta say." But he was smiling now, knowing damn well how history had more than proven her loyalty and faith in him. "But I'm telling you, you're in now, and you'd be crazy not to take advantage of having the ears of DA's and senators. Great deals are made around dinner and poker tables, you know."

She rolled her eyes, then looked down at his feet, anxious to change the subject. "Speaking of great deals—I see you got your shoes back."

Jane held up his feet so she could see the newly cobbled soles. "See. Good as new."

"I'm so relieved. I almost called you grandpa earlier."

"Orthopedic shoes are nothing to scoff at, Lisbon. Millions of people rely on them just to get through the day."

"Oh, I've got nothing against them, but I'm sure there are more attractive ways to take care of bunions and planter fasciitis. And you know what, I've gotten used those old brown shoes of yours. They're so much a part of you now, it was quite a shock to see you walking around in borrowed footwear."

He nodded. "My shoes and I, we do have sort of a symbiotic relationship. I've gotten older. My shoes have gotten older. I've taken quite a beating over the years; so have they."

"A few more lines, but nicely worn in," added Lisbon, not unkindly. "Wouldn't it be nice though to be able to repair your _soul_ every year?"

"Yes, that would be nice. If I had one to repair."

But Lisbon wasn't biting at that bait. "And no matter how much I want to get rid of you, I haven't yet, because it would be so difficult, maybe even painful, to break in someone new."

"So we're both still here mainly because of habit," he said, looking ruefully down at his brown leather companions.

"Yep. Something like that."

He looked up and caught her grinning almost fondly at him.

"You know Jane, much as I tease you about your old shoes, when I saw you in those ghastly white monstrosities, all I could think of was how much I missed your old ones. They have a certain…Old World charm. And by _Old World_, I really mean late fifteenth century maybe…"

"You find me charming? Why, that's probably the nicest thing you've ever said to me, Lisbon" he replied with a grin.

"Well, don't get too complacent. As painful as it might be, you never know when a newer, more state-of-the-art model might catch my eye, then you'll be in the dust bin before you can say Jimmy Choo. So, uh, you'd better stay on your toes."

He shook his head at her bad pun. She left him with a smile, calling her goodnight and admonishing him to go home. He sighed and watched wistfully as she disappeared down the hall.

"Don't you listen to her," Jane said softly to his worn brown shoes. "We're a package deal, you and I. Wherever I go, you go. And despite her bravado, we know she wouldn't be happy with a newer model. No one will ever fit Teresa Lisbon as well as we do…not even anger management dropouts in expensive Italian loafers…"

A/N: Okay, so I lapsed into some bad puns. I hope you got a laugh anyway. Thanks for reading. See you back next week!


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